


All I Want for Christmas is You

by WhatBecomesOfYou



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatBecomesOfYou/pseuds/WhatBecomesOfYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How do you celebrate the holidays?": Abbie and Ichabod dance at the annual town Christmas party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want for Christmas is You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chelseagirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseagirl/gifts).



“So, the appeal of watching this is what, exactly?” Ichabod asked, staring agape at the television. “One stiff wind and it would knock out that entire building right there, my God.”

Abbie laughed. “Relax. They're inflatable, not rocket missiles. And it's just the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.” She rocked forward in her seat. “And once Santa Claus rides through the parade on his sleigh, it really begins to feel like the holidays.”

“How _do_ you celebrate the holidays?” he asked. “I know you insisted that I come over for this Thanksgiving, which must post-date me.”

“Jenny's coming over later,” Abbie said. “And, because I knew you would bring it up, President Lincoln instituted Thanksgiving as a federal holiday in 1862.”

“I highly doubt you knew that without looking it up.”

“I looked it up on Google yesterday.”

“Ah, Google, the modern-day reference tool. The gesture is appreciated,” Ichabod said. “So, you fixed us a feast for today -”

“Whoa. Hold on there,” Abbie said. “I didn't fix _all_ of it. Jenny's bringing over the mashed potatoes, and there's the ingredients and recipe for my grandmother's green bean casserole in the kitchen. I think you can manage that.”

“So you fixed _most_ of a feast for today,” he said. “But what about Christmas?”

“Corbin taught me how to roast a turkey and carve it a couple years back, so, yeah,” she said. “And Christmas, well, you can help me pick out and decorate a tree. And I'll teach you how to make some of my traditional Christmas dishes. Anything else?”

“I take it decorating involves many fewer candles than I am used to?”

“Besides the electric ones I bought for my windows? Yeah. A lot less.”

“Alright. Anything else?”

“The town throws an annual Christmas party every year,” she said. “I sometimes have to work, but when I'm not, I do enjoy going.”

“What does this 'annual Christmas party' entail?” Ichabod asked. His curiosity was piqued, it was evident, and Abbie smiled. It was such a natural, innate part of his personality that she was sure it was a lot of how he had adjusted so well to life in this century.

“Lots of food, dancing and socializing,” she said. “Oh, and it's formal. So we'll need to get you a suit and tie.”

“Does this mean you'll be wearing a dress?”

“Yes, it does. That's what formal tends to mean,” she said. A wave of something indescribable coursed through her at that moment. Apparently, he wanted to see her in a dress, and she mentally categorized the dresses she knew were in her closet in order of “most likely to elicit a positive reaction from Ichabod,” and came up short. She didn't have much in the way of dresses, and what she did have were old and leftover from previous years.

Maybe she would have to go out dress shopping. 

The thought of someone looking appreciatively at her – if even for one night – spoke to something deep within her. 

“Alright. I think I would like to go to this party, Lieutenant, and take you as my guest? Is that how these conventions go?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then I would be pleased to have the honor of your company at the Sleepy Hollow annual Christmas party,” he said. “Assuming you don't have to work that night.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “And look, there's Santa!” The smile that spread across her face was enough to light up a smile on Ichabod's. Oh, he was like a young child in some ways.

* * *

She looked at herself in the mirror on the night of the party. The dress was long and sensual, a long silk train of red with tiny dots of glitter accentuating the outline. It wasn't really a dress she would have worn any other time – and she doubted she would wear it again – but knowing that there would be someone there to appreciate the effort, she wanted to make one to begin with.

It was a good thing she didn't have to work. Plus, she'd seen his suit and tie – she knew that he would look sharp, and a lot of that was because she had picked it out. 

She heard a knock at the door, and walked over to it. “Ichabod,” she said. “Hi.”

She could tell that his breathing had picked up rapidly since he saw her. “Lieutenant – Abbie – you look _wonderful_ in that dress, I must say.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles with a light brush of his lips. 

“Why, thank you,” Abbie said. She twirled a bit back and forth and felt the fabric swish against her hips and legs. At this point, she just wanted to make him react. It was kind of fun to see how his eyes dilated with restraint – restraint of what, she wasn't sure. Lust, perhaps?

“Shall we?” He extended his hand to her, and she folded her hand into his, clasping him tightly against her. 

“Yes, we shall.”

* * *

The food was good – Ichabod dug into a steak with relish, almost as if he had never seen one before. Maybe he really hadn't – did they have steak where he came from? She'd tried to do some cursory Googling of the American Revolution, so that she wasn't completely lost when he started talking. She hadn't exactly paid attention in American history class back in high school, and she was beginning to regret that now. But she had never thought to look up what foods they ate. 

She mentally added that to her “things to ask Crane about later list,” right after “what is it like to read about your life in history books?” She also mentally added American history books to her Christmas list. It would probably tickle Ichabod to read about everything that he missed out on.

It would help him learn about President Lincoln, like she had mentioned. And all the other Presidents, and everything else that had happened.

He would probably love it. But then, he would probably love just about anything she got him.

Buying for a time-traveler – okay, not in the literal sense, but figuratively – was something she had never thought about before. She kind of wondered what he might buy. Letting him loose in a shopping mall by himself would be a dangerous proposition. Who knew what evils lurked in the electronics section of Sears?

The violin music picked up. She thought it sounded it like an instrumental version of “O Come All Ye Faithful,” but she wasn't sure. “Care to dance?” Ichabod asked. “I do enjoy the art of dancing, especially with a gorgeous lady such as yourself.”

“I would love that,” she said.

He led her out to the dance floor, and she bit her lip. “I don't really dance,” she said. “So, if I trip over you, don't worry about it.”

“I wasn't planning to,” he said, as he began to move her to the music. “This is a basic waltz. Follow my lead.”

She moved her feet in a shuffle, roughly aligned with his movements. “I don't think I've ever waltzed. Square danced in fourth grade PE, yes. Waltzed, no.”

“Continue to follow my lead, and you will do alright.”

“Okay.” She was quiet as she dutifully followed his lead. It wasn't that hard, and she was beginning to pick it up. As he twirled her around, she felt her heart flutter just a tiny bit. It was nice to have a down moment, just the two of them, as he spun her around the room to the tune of instrumental Christmas music.

She could have danced all night with him, but as the music wound down, she looked at him. She didn't usually get to see him this up close and personal, and she could see every fleck of gold in his eyes and every natural highlight of his hair. She pursed her lips together.

“Is something on your mind, Abbie?” he asked.

“I – this has been really fun, honestly,” she said. “And I kind of don't want this night to end. You're a good dancer, and good company.”

“I agree,” he said. “After you understood what you were doing, you were quite pleasant to dance with. Probably the best partner I have had the pleasure of leading.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Abbie said, smiling at him. “Crane?”

“Yes?”

The reply to his question was a simple kiss placed to his lips. She didn't dare do more, not knowing how he would react. One basic kiss.

As she broke away from the kiss and looked at him through a lock of hair that had fallen over her eye, she willed herself not to run away from the situation and never look back. He could make do in modern society by himself. Sure, he still didn't have a drivers' license, but he could move to New York City and take the subway everywhere. It would be a culture shock, and they'd have to give up their apocalypse-stopping...

And then he leaned in and brushed the lock of hair back over her eye and kissed her again, this time, with some intensity behind it. Not that she thought he could ever do things with a lack of intensity behind them. It was just who he was. 

As they broke apart a second time, she felt a sense of relief. Relief, that he hadn't reacted poorly. Relief, that her impetuous motion was not greeted with some equally impetuous motion in the opposite direction.

“Maybe this night does not have to end here,” he said, and the matching smiles on their faces said everything that there was to say. They walked out of the party hand-in-hand, just as they had entered, but the vibe was entirely different. “So, do tell me about the fascination you lot have with putting tiny presents in footwear.”

“Oh, I am _so_ getting you a stocking this year.”


End file.
